


The Inferno

by dehautdesert



Category: Black Sails, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alien Culture, Aliens, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Morality, Kidnapping, Loki Has Issues, Loki!Silver, M/M, Pirates, Rescue, Rough Sex, Space Pirates, i'm sorry i'm so sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-02-07 12:01:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1898232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dehautdesert/pseuds/dehautdesert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which 'John Silver' is secretly Loki, trapped in a powerless mortal form and under a glamour, serving punishment for the latest of his many schemes. His already interesting relationship with one Captain Flint gets a lot more so when their ship is attacked by beings willing to travel three hundred years back in time for the chance to get their hands on a certain Asgardian prince.</p><p>Unaware that Thor and three other Avengers are aware of his predicament, Loki will have to rely on a crew of eighteenth century pirates to extricate himself and them from what promises to be an extremely unpleasant fate</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know whether you can enjoy this story without being familiar with 'Black Sails', or at the very least 'Treasure Island', but give it a go if it interests you and feel free to leave for greener pastures or bluer seas at any point—maybe even to watch the show if you're particularly intrigued, it's full of sex and violence. And pirates. Conversely, knowledge of MCU canon is also pretty integral, though I haven't seen CA:WS so this will ignore anything WS related.
> 
> For any Black Sails enthusiasts, probably don't expect epic accuracy in regards to eighteenth century stuff. Most of the story takes place in space, but the Black Sails characters are still important, so there'll be plenty of room for failure on my part. No sex for quite a few chapters, chaps.
> 
> As for the story itself... I have no idea where it came from. It just happened. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

It had been a night like any other, and really that was all he could say about it.

The sea was calm, the air was heavy with the heat of the Caribbean, the stars were unobstructed by clouds and the moon was two days away from full. Its light shone on the deck as the ship rocked gently back and forth on the waves, and Loki watched it with a feeling he couldn't quite name; like he was trying to figure something out without the first idea what he was looking for.

Everything mundane about this place, which included pretty much everything about this place, only got worse with every day that passed, and he supposed he was just trying to remind himself that there were real worlds outside this dump—real beauty beyond the wretched, dismal squalor of this so _representative_ a slice of Midgard.

"Silver, you whoreson fucking piece of shit! You're supposed to be watching Randall! I don't want the whole fucking ship to burn up on account of that old loon trying to boil a stew while you were busy stargazing and thinking about pussy!"

The dulcet tones of what must have been one of Midgard's foremost in linguistic artistry hurled their way towards Loki like one of the pathetic projectiles of the muskets that the humans of this time used to kill each other with. Loki grit his teeth and smiled.

"He's fast asleep, my friend," he assured the other man genially. _And even if he isn't he knows not to do anything that would endanger the ship. That would rather put something of a hitch in the plan to pretend mental incompetence in order to reap the benefits of piracy without any of the risk_. Loki was still a little put out that it had taken him as long as it had to figure out that Randall wasn't half as insane as he pretended. It was one of the oldest tricks in the book.

True, the benefits of piracy in this place seemed to amount to 'probably not starving to death on the streets', at least for the most part, but three years banishment to a place that hardly deserved to be called a 'civilisation', stuck in the guise of a mortal, had at least done the trick of making Loki appreciate the benefits of 'probably not starving to death on the streets' a little more.

"Just do your fucking job!" the same gentleman yelled at him, scratching his hairy bare chest like an ape.

This was who Loki, Prince of Asgard and Jotunheim, rightful King of the Nine Realms, now took orders from. A life form that could barely be called sentient even by the very soul of generosity. Still, he sounded more panicked than Loki would have thought proper for this situation, and though that piqued his curiosity he forewent further inquiry for the moment.

"I live to serve," he told the man, and bowed.

"Suck my cock, Silver."

Not only was this fine fellow a veritable poet, he was also the soul of wit itself. Loki didn't know why he'd ever want to leave this paradise.

Well, sarcasm aside he didn't really have anywhere better to go. He was surprised Flint's boat had the ability to get anywhere at all past the debris of all his burned bridges. Loki's, that was. And Flint's too, he supposed, though his bridges had been smaller—stretching only over oceans and not across galaxies.

Also it was a surprise Flint's boat had the ability to get anywhere at all when you took into account what a hulking primitive piece of shit death-trap it was, and that was before it had been blown apart that one time. Ever since the incident with the _Urca_ , even after the many refits that had been done following the initial 'I don't care what the fuck you have to do, make her seaworthy before that galleon gets back or we're all fucking dead' repairs, Loki had been sure the entire contraption would collapse and sink at any moment.

Such was his castle now. Half a room of such was his castle now, rather. More like a cupboard than a room by Asgardian standards; but mortals were small-minded and so it was a room to them as long as it didn't fall apart under the weight of disrepair and it's captain's self-importance.

As if in answer to his idle musing he heard an ominous creak along the main mast. He decided to forego practising any fellatio on the crew for tonight and make his way back to Randall before the giant length of wood decided to fall on top of him and crush him to death, and before any more of Flint's brainless mob of backstabbing drunks tried to pick a fight with or proposition him again. The one he'd been exchanging what passed for words with didn't have a name that he remembered, and he wasn't sure if he'd recognise him amongst the crowd of halfwits the next time he saw him, but he never forgot how vulnerable he was in his mortal body, and as such always tried his hardest to sow his seeds of discord between other people, not between himself and others.

Needless to say he was wont to fail miserably at that, but then he'd hardly be Loki or even 'Silver' if he'd done otherwise. There was only so much amusement or profit one could get from playing one ant against another.

Randall was in fact not asleep, but sat staring at a bowl of potato peelings with his jaw clamped shut when Loki returned to his side. He greeted him in a friendly manner.

"Don't worry, Randall, I'm back. I know you must have missed me dearly."

"Need a shit," said Randall, still staring at the peelings.

"Wonderful."

It was times like these Loki liked to pretend that Randall was an old pet on its last legs, and that he didn't mind doing drudgery like this for his sake, that he'd be dead within a few weeks anyway. But he knew well that in reality Randall could live another twenty years, and spent half the time thinking up ways he could put the old dog down without anybody noticing.

Randall, of course, knew very well what was going through his mind when he got in these moods. Loki was certain he saw the mortal smirking at him through the pretence of imbecility. He had to admit, he actually had a little admiration for the man. Emphasis on 'little'. But he had to continue watching him in order to maintain his place on the ship.

Flint had insisted, the bastard.

Now that Loki had been on the _Walrus_ a little while, and those members of the crew who had been against him and Flint's other policies had been either pacified by the treasure whose acquisition 'Silver' had been invaluable to, or been... _unlucky_ , he might have had enough standing with the crew to weather Randall's untimely death. But he wasn't taking his chances, no matter how tempting it was.

So he helped the creature do his business and returned his crippled sack of bones to the spot where he was supposed to be mending the nets. What an achievement. Surely this life had been worth the loss of the old man's leg and all his dignity besides.

Hopefully Loki would never find out about that one. Though he was sure that Odin had had something like it in mind when he'd sent him three hundred years into Midgard's past; under glamour so the Heimdall of this time would not recognise him. Make him taste the ultimate humility before inglorious demise.

"Another afternoon well spent," he announced.

"You're a thief," Randall said.

Loki sighed. "As are you, fair Randall, for surely you have stolen my heart."

The old man's scowl didn't twitch even the slightest at Loki's jest—neither in humour nor in disgust. He just looked exactly the same as ever.

"You're a thief."

And repeated what was almost his catch-phrase by this point, he said it so often.

"I can already tell this is going to be another evening of stimulating debate," Loki muttered.

A shout came from somewhere else on the ship and someone ran by them in all haste. Loki blinked and wondered for a second what might have been happening, but at this point didn't care enough to actually risk interaction with the crew and instead leant back against a support beam.

"They seem excited," he observed. "No doubt some new disaster threatening to sink this squalid floating prison. I find I sleep better when I don't know."

"Pirates," said Randall—possibly meant as a suggestion.

It amused Loki to treat it as such, and he replied, "That would be ironic, wouldn't it."

Not that they didn't face life-threatening conflict from other pirates, but that was usually confined to Vane and his crew, and usually didn't take place when they were actually at sea. No, this was probably a storm on the horizon or something. _The Norse god Thor striking his anvil_ , one of the sailors of Scandinavian descent had described it, much to Loki's annoyance.

Although a storm would have been strange, considering the sky had been clear a minute ago. Maybe something on the ship had just broken for the umpteenth time. Loki had suggested as silkily as he could that Flint should just swap this ship out for the next one of comparable size that they were able to steal, but apparently that would bring them bad luck, because there was nothing luckier than a ship that fell apart every other week.

He hadn't been lying when he said he'd sleep better if he didn't know. Of course he had to make the decision; was a less than terrible night's sleep worth all the boredom he was feeling? Or maybe sitting here and waiting for news would keep enough suspense going (enough to fit in a thimble, at any rate) that he could draw out some entertainment, instead of asking what was going on and going immediately back to his boredom on learning the answer.

"Bottle of rum," said Randall.

"Not now," Loki told him, "you're morose enough as it is, and I don't get any enjoyment out of the stuff, nor do I see how any of you... people, can bear to drink it."

He'd almost said 'mortals' there. Almost. Randall was too clever for him to want to give away a tidbit like that, though sometimes he wondered what would happen if he did; how the old man would interpret it and how on the money he'd be with his conclusions. It was something to pass the time.

Outside he heard a snatch of panicked voices and the tapping of more people running along the deck. Yes, something was going on all right, but he didn't hear anything in the frame of the ship so if it was a structural issue he hoped it wasn't a life-threatening one.

It could be another mutiny, he supposed, one that had somehow escaped his notice. Ordinarily he'd have said something that big escaping his notice would be impossible, but Flint's crew had mutinied against him about half a dozen times now and by his reckoning there was another due simply according to statistical probability.

"Another petty rebellion?" he asked his companion. "Whose side would you be on?"

"Bottle of rum."

"Yes, I suppose it would depend on who was leading the charge. It's definitely not Bones; if he didn't change his loyalties after the captain threw him overboard that one time he's definitely not going to change now."

Both parties swore to this day that that had been an accident. It was one of the few times Loki honestly didn't know what to believe. He hadn't known Bones long enough at the time to know whether he was capable of such stupidity if it wasn't. Even now he wasn't certain.

"George Mary, maybe? He certainly likes telling other people what to do."

Suddenly, Loki heard Flint's voice shouting on deck, though he still couldn't make out what he was saying, and still didn't care overly much. Probably just motivating his crew into whatever their sad lack of intelligence was failing to motivate them to in the first place. Probably nothing.

"Fuck, we're all going to die!"

Loki rolled his eyes. That particularly loud snatch of conversation had flown into the galley from someone aiming for the stairs, and though he didn't trust whichever of Flint's wretches who had spoken the words to know certain death from a golden apple, he was beginning to think it might be an idea to make an inquiry. Just on the off chance they really were all going to die this time. Just so he could think of some suitable last words.

 _Here lies Loki_ , he thought. _Prince of two worlds, god among men and ship's fucking cook_. _Resting in pieces at the bottom of a Midgardian ocean with a crew of half-trained monkeys._

It would have been a good punch line, if the joke hadn't been his life.

"Shut up, Black Dog!" he managed to hear yelled in reply to the first voice.

Then one of the men—a younger, bearded fellow—stopped in the doorway, his hands clasping onto the wood to hold him up as he lunged forward and looked around frantically. His eyes passed over both Loki's and Randall's, and he pushed himself back and out of the room a second later, slapping the doorway as he left.

"He's not in here!" Loki heard him yell.

The response was from further away, but he just about made out "Jesus, fucking find him, Tom, he's got to be around here somewhere!" before a wave rocked the ship particularly hard and pushed him off the table he'd been sitting on; not so that he fell, but so that he had to move quickly to keep his balance.

Randall, by contrast, barely moved—even with only the one leg to steady him.

"Damn it," muttered Loki. "Shall I see what's going on and alleviate your fears, Randall?"

That was another joke; Randall's expression still hadn't changed as far as he could see and he was the one who was beginning to feel the pangs of fear. Still, in this body, in this time, with these people and on this floating disaster-waiting-to-happen, there was very little chance that there was anything he could actually do to help himself.

_You're laughing at me, Father, aren't you?_

He clenched his fists.

_Odin. He's only Odin to you now, you fool._

A moment later he was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard boots trampling down the steps and had this feeling where he knew, just knew, that even though the galley was likely the last place anyone needed to be in a desperate situation, those boots were heading straight for them.

"You."

Loki glanced up from his position leant back against another beam in the ship, one leg crossed over the other. Sure enough, Flint was striding through the doorway, glaring at him in the same irritated way he always did, like 'Silver' was a troublesome child he'd been charged with looking after. His red beard was newly clipped and his blue eyes clear and intense—for a mortal's, as he addressed him with his low and gravelly voice. Behind him Loki could see the tall shadow of Billy Bones looming with a mixture of distrust and anxiety.

What on earth was going on?

"Captain Flint," he greeted, doffing an imaginary hat.

"I need you on deck."

Need? Now he was really curious. Since when was the ship's cook ever needed on deck, under any circumstances? Unless Flint was suddenly starving to death there wasn't much he could do, and even then everything he'd learned about food preparation he'd learned _from_ Flint—in one of the more bizarre turns of events since being stripped of his powers.

Just as he was about to quarrel for the sake of his curiosity, and mostly for the sake of quarrel, Flint grabbed the shoulder of his jacket and pulled him viciously towards the door.

"Now, Silver," he growled.

 _As the Captain commands_ , he thought to himself. Three hundred years into the future he might have made some kind of crude innuendo, but even though he doubted Flint would do more than glare harder (and given the liaison they'd already had it would have been the height of hypocrisy for him to do more) he didn't know how many of his passel of superstitious nitwits might have been within earshot.

Flint didn't let go of him even as he was dragged into the corridor and towards the steps leading out onto the deck. The manner of his grip reminded Loki somewhat of Thor's; the day he'd dragged him through the palace of Asgard to take the Dark Elf ship out of the realm, like this was Flint's last resort the same way freeing Loki had been Thor's.

But a last resort for what, exactly? Primitive and weak as Flint was, Loki had to admit that when it came to matters of the _Walrus_ Flint was more qualified than him in every way, so if Flint was looking to him for help...

The one time that had happened in the past had been part of the ruse to pass the _Urca's_ escort ship by having Silver pose as the captain of a trading vessel. And ruses were something he could do, fair enough, only Loki hadn't heard the lookout make mention of a sail on the horizon.

Of course, as soon as he was brought up on deck, those thoughts were replaced by ones of more immediate relevance.

"Ah," he said.

Where only a few minutes ago the moon had been a sliver away from full there was now a large section hidden from view, and not only of the moon. The line that had cut across that celestial body continued around in a wide circle that obscured a large patch of sky directly above the ship. The circle was black and dotted with stars, but Loki could tell it was not their night sky because the light of the moon was not reaching it.

And also because of the large green planet he could see part of, looming towards the edge of the circle while a smaller white satellite crept up behind it. There was no doubt in his mind; someone had placed a window to an alien sky above their ship, and in his experience that meant nothing good.

The crew were gaping, terrified at the anomaly to a man—except for Flint and Bones, and even they looked less than confident. But he regarded Loki with some measure of imploring in his look and gestured up at the strange apparition.

"Well?"

Loki took another look, trying to find constellations he recognised so he could determine where exactly it was that they were looking at. He had something of an idea already, mind, but he was hoping he was wrong about that one. Though he'd been unable to use magic for almost three years, he'd at least retained the ability to sense it, and what he was sensing now resembled that of certain beings he had no wish to see in his current state—or in any other, for that matter.

"Well what?" he asked.

Flint grabbed him again, this time bruising his shoulders with both hands.

"You don't seem overly concerned," he observed, furiously. In truth Loki was very much concerned, he just wasn't confused. "Tell me now, is this just another illusion like the fucking ghost ship? Or is this something that will hurt my ship?"

The day after they'd sailed away with the bulk of the _Urca's_ gold in hand there'd been a dense fog on the water and the crew had seen the spectre of a ship much like their own, trawling through the mist alongside them. Panic had ensued, Flint had looked about ready to start his own brand of comfort—beating the men until they did as they were told; and to be fair to him Loki himself had felt the same urge on many an occasion. But that would have broken the fragile peace they'd been enjoying, and Loki had had to explain that what they were seeing was a natural phenomenon, rather than a supernatural one.

The fog had been thick enough for a shadow of the Walrus to be cast upon a part of it; an illusion 'Silver' had heard of from his days with the theatre troupe. Flint had remarked that that had been the first thing he'd heard from Silver in days that had actually sounded plausible and as a matter of fact Loki had spent some time with a troupe before that unfortunate incident with the Governor's niece had had him pressed into the Navy.

In his defence, he'd no idea she'd planned to run with the money. But this was no shadow, nor a trick of the light. No, this was something far worse.

"Um... I really don't know how to put this."

Flint leaned in closer, eyes blazing, and much as there were now far greater things to worry about, and much as it was all the more humiliating to be afraid of a mortal who wasn't even as capable as those 'Avenger' fools, Loki couldn't help but shrink back as far as he could.

"I'm sure you'll figure a way," Flint told him. "I can see you know what it is."

"Yes, well. You're not going to believe this, but..."

He'd shrunk back as far as he could and Flint's continual creep forward prompted him to begin shuffling back, but Flint was holding him too hard for him to move more than an inch. Fuck this fucking mortal body!

"I'm waiting, Silver."

Loki took a deep breath.

"I'm afraid we're under attack."

At once, Flint's expression changed. "Attack?" he repeated. "From whom?"

"Pirates."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it was. First four chapters of god knows how many have been written, the second of which will be put up in a few days. If you like it let me know, if not let me know anyway and I'll pretend you did to save my massive and fragile ego. Have a good one, me hearties!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, my computer decided to die today, and since a certain event has made the town I live in practically inaccessible, I'll have to wait until tomorrow to bring it to the computer-necromancers. Fortunately I have two computers, so I don't even know why I mentioned this; I guess I just wanted to rant at someone. 
> 
> Anywho, I'll be spending the rest of the week on a ficathon thing I'm doing for Game of Thrones. Or I will if I want to get it done on time anyway. Next chapter will be up some time next week; enjoy the introduction of the Vadiri.

It had been about here in Loki's original timeline that he and Thor had been leaving Asgard without escort—save for the Warriors and Sif—and exploring distant lands on their own for the first time. They'd done battle on Vanaheim, Alfheim, Svartlheim, and several more obscure branches of the Yggdrasil, but no matter how much they begged and cajoled and, in Thor's case, blustered, Odin had not let them try their hand at taking on Vadiri pirates.

Yes, they had tried their hand at taking on Vadiri pirates anyway, but that hadn't ended well.

These Vadiri were vicious, mean, sadistic, lacking in honour—or at least what Thor had considered honour—and lacking in respect for anyone but their own gods; everything you'd expect from pirates, really. What set them apart from the regular galactic rogues were their tendency to travel in fleets, their absolute xenophobia and religious dogmatism, and their distaste for leaving survivors without good reason.

'Good reason', did not include the goodness of their hearts, of which many might have said they had none. Their modus operandi included two schemes; to dominate smaller fleets of ships with superior numbers and move off to another part of the galaxy before any authorities could pursue them, or to scout out primitive worlds, attack, take a few souvenirs, then come back in superior numbers and ravage whole planets.

Eighteenth-century Midgard certainly counted as primitive, and a likely target for the Vadiri, were it not for the fact that it was under the protection of Asgard and therefore even those brigands should have been steering well clear of it.

The portal that was hanging above Flint's ship suggested otherwise.

"What?" Flint spat at him, in response to his one-word 'pirates' explanation. Loki sighed, because there was no way he'd be able to explain it in a way Flint would understand before they were all horribly killed.

_I hope you're happy now, Odin,_ he thought to himself. _And Thor, I hope you cry for days._

"I am sorry, Flint," he said, and was indeed sincere, because he had to admit he'd grown a little fond of Flint over the past few months. For some reason. "Truly. But to put it in the simplest of terms, we're fucked."

Before Flint could do more than widen his eyes a bright light engulfed the entire ship from within the portal. There was a second where most of the men were just standing there, waiting for someone else to give a cue as to the appropriate reaction, and then like the fog their 'ghost ship' had appeared in panic settled on the deck.

The first frightened yell came from the rigging halfway up the main mast, then trickled down onto the deck where people began running around to look for some safe space. Flint looked wildly from side to side for some idea of what to do, and again Loki felt sorry for him, because there wasn't anything anyone could do; as he was sure some poor fool would very soon prove.

"God and all his saints defend us!"

"What the fuck is it?!"

"It's Judgement Day! It's our Lord returned to punish sinners! He's going to send us all to Hell!"

"Every man for himself!"

That last one had been Morgan, and Loki could see he was going to be the one to demonstrate how royally fucked they were in about three, two, one...

"Argh!"

Morgan had thrown himself over the side, but as if there'd been a trampoline surrounding the ship some invisible force bounced him back onto the ship where he collided roughly with the deck, grunting with pain.

"What the fuck?" Billy whispered, staring in horror.

Unsurprisingly, this failure of Morgan's did not convince the entire crew of the futility of abandoning ship. Two more tried their hands at taking a dive into the ocean, and only when the second of them had knocked himself out landing back against the helm did the men get the idea, and that's when panic truly started to set in.

Three years ago Loki might have laughed at their pathetic attempts, but that would have been when he was the one creating the distorted field now surrounding them. Now he was in the same boat—every pun intended—it was suddenly not quite as funny.

A little funny, perhaps. It had made a good opportunity for that pun, after all. Mostly it was just embarrassing.

"Silver," hissed Flint, shoving him against the upper deck, "You know what's going on. Tell me!"

Loki looked up at the light and Flint followed his gaze. There was nothing he could tell him but to look; no time to explain but to let Flint experience it for himself. Except—

"Don't tell them you're the Captain," he said.

Again, Flint drew back with shock.

"Trust me. Don't tell them you're the Captain."

They looked up at the light again just in time to see the other ship emerge from the glamour of invisibility she'd been disguised with—the Vadiri often had skilled mages at their disposal.

The Vadiri scout ships were shaped roughly like spinning tops, though from directly below her she just looked circular, with several layers or rings that spun in opposite directions to each other. The phrase 'whirling blades of death' came to mind, and sure enough the grappling hooks descended with their spinning heads and clamped on to the hull of the Walrus one after the other in rapid succession—TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP!

Shouts of fright came from above and below deck, but no one was trying to get from one to another. Those below deck must have been too afraid to come up, those above too desperate to find a way out of this before the unpleasant fates they must have known were headed their way came to pass. For the moment, Flint and Billy just stared at the lines, and then the ship began to move.

There was a jolt, and the hooks started being retracted back into the Vadiri ship, pulling the _Walrus_ with them. It jolted Flint right out of his stunned disbelief.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing to my ship!?" he screamed at the monstrosity above them.

The men in the immediate vicinity went quiet, and Loki himself was no small bit impressed.

"You there!" Flint continued, yelling at a group of cowering men along the port side. "Get those fucking cables off my ship! Mr. Quartermaster, prepare to fire a volley at whatever the fuck that thing is!"

Billy took one disbelieving look at the cannons and then glanced up at the Vadiri vessel.

"Sir, I don't see that she's in range," he protested, "and even if we could get the guns to aim straight up, anything that didn't hit would fall right back down onto the ship!"

"There's no use, sir, these blasted cables is finer steel than our blades!" cried one of the men.

_Adamantium alloy, more likely_ , thought Loki, though he was suddenly enjoying himself all the same. To his great relief the 'cables' as the humans thought of them had force field generating capabilities, as they proved when a curtain of red light suddenly shot out and draped over the ship in a crimson sphere. That meant at least they weren't going to endure explosive decompression once they were brought up through the portal, and so they had at least a little spare time.

The humans for the most part reacted to this development with more screaming, and shouts of 'It'll take us all straight to Hell!', and it became clear right at that moment that the _Walrus_ was being lifted out of the water. The distortion field kept it oddly still; stiller than Loki had ever known it to be. The Vadiri were taking some care not to kill them for now, and in deference to those wishes Loki had every intention of making 'for now' extend considerably longer.

"I'm not sure we're going to want to see what kind of weapons they have," Loki warned Flint in a low but urgent whisper, hoping he understood what was meant when he used these words. "It might be best to surrender quietly!"

"Over your dead body, Silver," Flint told him. "Men, arm yourselves and prepare to be boarded, I want my guns loaded yesterday!"

"Beat to quarters!" yelled Billy.

Loki exhaled, shoulders hunched. He took back everything he'd said about Flint being smarter than the rest of his crew of idiots, Flint was the biggest idiot of them all.

"Much as I am obliged to admire your efforts, Captain, and—for that matter—to be amused by them—"

"Shut up and get out of the way, I'll deal with you when this is over!"

No doubt he would do so, even as they floated through the plains of Helheim together—for how would this death bring any of them to Valhalla? It would be no more a battle than a man holding a wooden shield against a volcano could be called a battle, even if Flint did manage to destroy them all with his own cannons.

But that for one was not to be their downfall; for right then the ship, which had been rising slowly, suddenly shot up into the air and through the portal, nearly too quickly to register that that was what had happened before they were all sent careening onto the deck. A new round of screaming rang from the men on board, and even Loki was by this point too nervous to make a snide comment.

Now the environment had reversed itself. Instead of them looking up at a cross-section of another galaxy, they were suspended above a cross-section of their own planet, the window onto the calm sea that had been almost lilac under a sky with just a hint of red still in it, now getting ever further away. The green planet they'd been able to see a part of and it's white moon were now fully in view, more vast than the majority of the mortals on board could comprehend.

Five more satellites surrounded this planet—a gas giant Loki was unfamiliar with for the time being. There was a red planet further towards the sun of this system, a sun which was also red, and far larger than that of Midgard. Further out and about fifty degrees to the right from the green planet was a smaller, yellowish green planet with at least two moons, and behind them the reddish-purple dust of a nebula far out on the edge of another system.

That was all Loki could see of the system they were in before the spinning rings began retracting from the centre, opening aside to bring the _Walrus_ into her hold. The Vadiri ship must have been more than ten times the size of the _Walrus_ ; probably closer to twenty, and with enough room in her cargo bay to fit three of Flint's ships, but even in the brief glance he did get, Loki was not sure that this was a scout ship as he'd first thought.

They were lifted into the bay slowly once they were directly beneath the doors. The grapplers retracted far enough back into the mechanism that housed them for them to keep the ship upright, but they did not release the _Walrus'_ hull. Then the bay doors closed, and the force field dropped; releasing gallons of sea water onto the floor.

The ship came to a standstill with a small jolt.

Grey and semi-spherical, the cargo bay was mostly plain, but a long walkway was extending at about the height of the bottom of the mizzen staysail from one end of the bay, and at its starting point was a set of doors framed with what must have been one of the trickier locking mechanisms Loki had ever seen. They wouldn't be getting out that way in a hurry.

More was the pity, right now he was more concerned with what might be coming in.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," someone muttered, drawing Loki's attention back to the crew.

Now that the ship was no longer moving and those prone to yelling had all screamed their lungs out, there were more than two dozen filthy primates staring open-mouthed at the shiny walls of the ship they'd been taken into, while their captain made a quick assessment of the situation and loaded up his rifle.

"There!" he shouted. He'd seen the doors and was pointing at them with the weapon. "That's where they'll come in from. I want someone in a position where they can shoot down whoever or whatever comes through those doors."

"To the rigging, Mr. Daniels!" shouted Billy.

Loki hoped 'Daniels', whoever he was, was carrying something more reliable than the muskets and flintlock pistols favoured by the mortals of this time-period. A rock, for instance, probably had a better chance of making a difference to their fight than those primitive guns did.

"Captain, surely we can't—" one of the men began, then cut himself off. Flint just stared coolly at him while a bead of sweat trickled down his grimy forehead and he wiped at his dirty hair desperately. "This ain't natural, Captain!" he blurted out. "We just got taken up, we did! This is biblical!"

"I don't care if God and the Devil themselves are on the other side of that door," Flint replied. "You will shoot whoever is trying to take this ship. This is our fucking ship," he went on, louder now, and more vicious, "and I did not bring her through a battle with a Spanish man-o-war laden with millions in gold doubloons only to lose her here and now to God knows what."

On that last syllable he looked sharply at Loki, who turned his eyes away from that fierce gaze on instinct. Glad as he was to pretend that that remark had meant Flint recognised his divinity, he knew in reality there was every chance Flint would snap and kill him before the Vadiri even got the chance. And Loki refused to meet his death at the hands of a human, even if that human was Flint.

The crew was still too scared for a hearty cheer to punctuate their captain's little speech, but they were also too scared of said captain not to follow his orders—at one point someone definitely whispered 'They say Old Nick himself fights for him'—and there was a flurry of preparation; loading weapons, stowing powder, getting into formation—Loki slunk off in the midst of this to the upper deck to crouch behind the side facing the door, right in the corner where it at least felt safest.

In the back of his mind he'd been considering and discarding plans in rapid succession. It didn't matter too much what those plans contained, because it kept hitting the same snag; the Vadiri hated everything that wasn't Vadiri. Fuck, the Vadiri hated most things that were Vadiri. The best chance that he could see was that the ones who had captured them would keep them alive for testing in order to learn more about Midgard. That was the _best_ scenario, and an unlikely one.

For now all he could do was try not to get killed in the first wave along with the bulk of Flint's motley crew.

As if reading his mind and deciding that Silver was a part of the motley crew whether he liked it or not, Flint stormed up onto the upper deck and tossed a rifle at Loki, which landed with a clatter against the hull. Loki flinched.

Flint stared at him for a good moment, saying nothing. He didn't have to. Even in this direst of situations, Loki felt a little drop of jealousy for the mortal's ability to command respect like that. He remembered what it was like to have that sceptre in his hands and gain more than just respect in using it. He remembered the peace it brought him, when he didn't have the time to think about how hollow it was. When he didn't miss the freedom of being hated.

Damn Flint for making him remember that again, just when they were all about to die, and damn Flint for not being able to comprehend any of it.

Also, damn the moment they were standing in for not going on forever and giving way to the next, wherein an ominous click was heard from the doorway, and when Loki looked up over the side he saw a succession of purple lights illuminate from within the locking mechanism, signifying that the doors were about to be opened.

He clutched the rifle in his hands tightly, as if it could make a difference. As if the primitive stick filled with lead and powdered chemicals could actually help him against a single one—

BANG!

Loki glanced up over the side again. Daniels had fired from the crow's nest as soon as the doors had swished open, and to Loki's utter amazement had actually hit his target squarely in the forehead.

Vadiri were a female-dominated society, particularly at this time of increased religious zealotry for their people, for their Engravings dictated female superiority to a degree few cultures of Midgard—even in this time period—ever did for their males. They were roughly humanoid in shape, a foot or so taller on average than your average human, with translucent sapphire-blue skin through which you could see their beating hearts if you got the chance to take their armour off.

They had stinging tentacles on their heads instead of hair, the length of which spoke in general to their prowess in physical combat for the longer the reach the more likely they were to sting their opponent and incapacitate or even kill them—depending on the circumstances. The tentacles were also bio-luminescent, as were several other places on their bodies.

A split-second after the shot had gone off, Loki had heard three exclamations of surprise and the tapping of boots against the floor, then raised his head just in time to see the front Vadiri fall back against one subordinate while bits of her blue brain spattered the other. The shot wasn't instantly fatal, but there was little doubt in his mind that she, at least, would be dead within a minute.

"Shit! What the fuck!" one of the other Vadiri yelled.

"Scans showed their weapons were disabled!"

"Shut up and get her out of here!"

Scans? Did these idiots not realise they were dealing with a people too primitive to use weapons that could be disabled by electronic interference?

BANG!

The next shot wasn't quite so lucky, getting the second Vadiri in the shoulder just as she crossed back over the threshold, dragging her companion. She screamed in pain.

"It's coming from above, Lieutenant!" cried the third one.

No third shot came; once back behind the doorway Daniels wouldn't have been able to see or shoot at them even though those standing on the deck could. But Flint didn't order the men on the deck to fire, no doubt he'd keep using his sniper until he was forced to do otherwise.

"Fuck!" hissed the lieutenant. As far away as she was, her exclamation was just loud enough for Loki to hear. "You get out there and use a wide burst to cut the top off the vessel!"

"Lieutenant?"

"It's made of fucking wood, Crewman, it's hardly the Fortress of Undying Claws!"

"Yes, sir!"

Loki looked quickly to Flint for his appraisal of the Vadir's words, but saw nothing in that weathered face that suggested he'd even heard what they were saying. Too late he remembered that while he was still able to use Allspeak, the language of the Vadiri would sound like nothing more than a chorus of whistling to humans, so Flint really hadn't heard them.

He lurched forward. "Get your man off the rigging, Flint!" he whispered.

Flint frowned at him, and then looked out at the doorway again where one of the Vadiri—likely the third, uninjured crewman—had ventured out onto the walkway.

BANG!

A ripple in the air showed the presence of a personal force field set up around this crewman, which struck Loki as strange but not in a way he had the time to puzzle out. The bullet made this ripple when it bounced off the field then clanged against the walkway's railing and ricocheted off into the bay.

There was a brief moment when Flint blinked in shock, but then he took another look at Loki and yelled at the mast—

"Daniels! Get down!"

—much too late. The crewman aimed her own rifle up at the sails and fired a short burst. The energy beam projected from that rifle spread out like light from under a wide shade, growing wider the further out it went. It cut through the maintopsail and mizzen topgallant staysail entirely, severing the ropes holding up several of the other sails and cutting into their cloth.

The force of the burst pushed the top of the mast over where it too had been severed. Daniels gave a cry when the mast fell; and Loki couldn't see him past all the other blasted sails on Flint's ridiculous boat, but he closed his eyes briefly none the less.

Though it turned out he needn't have. Higher ropes that held the other topgallants to the main mast kept the wreckage from falling straight onto the deck; those ropes weren't strong enough to hold it, but they did break the fall before they snapped.

"LOOK OUT!"

When that top of the mast, sails and entire crow's nest hit the deck it smashed into the starboard side of the hull and splintered it apart.

Loki could see Flint's face twist with fury, and that was impressive, because the man had just seen a weapon with capabilities far beyond his understanding cripple his ship instantly unseaworthy with a single shot, yet he was still more angry than scared.

The rest of the crew went back to screaming, for the most part. Flint looked to Loki like it was all his fault, then peeked out over the side of the hull and started firing at the Vadiri crewman. Several others, including Billy Bones, followed suit, but the force field ensured it was to no avail.

"Crewman Loredlen!" shouted the Vadiri lieutenant over the fire of the rifles. Loki strained his ears to hear. "What does the scan say!?"

Oh good, they were still relying on the scanners that had gotten the leader of their party killed. That boded well.

The pleased look in the crewman's opaque, powder blue eyes however, did not.

"Tell the captain it's exactly what we hoped for!" she called excitedly. "Forty-eight life-signs; forty-seven human, and one Jotun!"

Loki dropped his rifle.


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, for a time I shoved this story to the back of the closet, thoughts of 'what the hell are you doing? A Black Sails/MCU crossover? WTF, dude?' going though my head. But apparently there are people just as crazy as crazy ole' me out there who want more. Here you go, people--your prayers are answered ;)

Everything in Loki's power went in to schooling his features; not only so the Vadiri would not find out who or what he was—not until he found out their purpose, at any rate—but so Flint didn't either, because Flint already looked to be blaming Silver for this, and if the Vadiri were after him specifically he supposed maybe it was his fault Flint was in this mess.

Still, if Flint hadn't been a pirate, he never would have put Loki in a position where he had to scheme his way onto the crew in order to survive. No, Flint could have remained an honest, upstanding member of his excuse for a society and died of dysentery like a good eighteenth-century human without ever being bothered with the existence of other worlds, yet he had chosen to make his living stealing from other disease-ridden mortals and fending off mutinies.

So really, it was just as much Flint's fault as it was Loki's.

"Excellent work, crewman—now disarm the enemy!"

"Yes, sir!"

The Vadiri crewman, 'Loredlen' the lieutenant had called her, sprinted up the walkway towards them as more bullets bounced off her force field. Loki had no doubt that with her powers she could indeed disarm the entirety of the _Walrus_ single-handed, unless someone chose the exact right moment to shoot her down. So he picked his rifle back up and lifted it over the side of the hull, keeping one eye on Loredlen and one on the doorway.

Loredlen pointed her own weapon at the wreckage from the mast, which Daniels was trying to extricate himself from with what looked to be a nastily broken arm.

"Sun of Laios!" she cried out—Loki would have rolled his eyes if focussing on his current target hadn't been so important. "Behold my vengeance!"

As soon as her finger pulled the trigger, Loki pulled the trigger on his own weapon. Thankfully, the thing didn't jam or misfire. On the less thankful side of things, the ball it fired ran smack into the force field just in front of her face.

_What the fuck?_

There was something very wrong here. Loki remembered hearing about the Vadiri situation in council meetings which he was sure were to take place at least twenty years from now, on how they were just getting reports of the pirates utilising personalised force fields. But those early force fields had to be dropped in order for their user to fire a weapon—and even those should have been too early for this time!

To make matters worse, the Vadir had had much better luck. The bolt from her gun struck Daniels in the centre of his chest. First the man's flesh evaporated off his skeleton, then the bones fell into a pile of ash within the blink of an eye.

One piece of luck did hold, however, in that Loredlen did not turn to see who had fired that last shot at her, and it was the last shot, because Flint's crew were too dumbfounded by what had just happened to resume firing. Loredlen took the opportunity to jump down from the walkway and onto the deck.

With the impact of her landing her shoulder-length tentacles swung out. One of the men shouted, 'Christ—it's fucking hideous!', and those who had been huddled up against the side scrambled away from her as far as they could. Many still had their rifles held up for defence, but others with slightly more sense had discarded them for bladed weapons. Not that swords and battle-axes would do any better, but it did show that a few neurons were firing in those skulls.

Loredlen made a quick sweep of the ship with her eyes then used her rifle as a club to crack the skull of the nearest man, who practically flew back against the rigging before crumpling to the floor.

"Lower you weapons!" she demanded.

 _They can't understand you, fool_ , thought Loki.

Indeed, the bulk of the men probably didn't even realise that they were being spoken to; the Vadiri voice was so far removed from their own. Flint, however, narrowed his eyes like he was catching on.

"Put them on the ground now, reprobates! Otherwise I'll kill one of you for every ten seconds my orders go unheeded!"

Loki cringed. If he didn't reveal now that he could understand what she was saying, it could very well have been him she decided to vaporise first. But if he did, and they had tracked down a Jotun for an even worse purpose...

"You have until the count of three to comply!"

She held up three webbed fingers.

"One!"

Her index finger was raised into the air. Panicking, Loki searched his mind for the best way to respond to this. Perhaps if he remained hidden on the top deck she would not think to fire at him until she actually realised that she wasn't being understood. Yes, that was a good idea.

"Two!"

Still crouched in his corner, he caught Flint's eye and beckoned him over to join him in taking cover. Flint looked from him to the Vadir and back again, and then to his dismay Loki saw realisation dawn on his face and he aimed a pistol at the alien.

 _No, no, no!_ thought Loki. He couldn't voice this thought, or Loredlen would know he was using Allspeak. _You fucking idiot, Flint, what the fuck are you thinking!?_

"Three!"

BANG!

Loredlen whirled around to face Flint, who had shot straight up into the air, or as near to it as he could without risking the bullet falling back down onto his head. He didn't give the alien the chance to make a move before he growled—

"Who and what in the name of God do you propose to be?"

A brief silence passed. Then Loredlen grit her teeth and pressed what must have been a communications badge on her breast.

"Crewman Loredlen, requesting use of the translation application; over?"

She sounded rather embarrassed. As if to compound that, another, older-sounding voice floated into the room over the speakers, commenting—

"Yes, we were wondering how long it would take you to figure that one out. Access granted."

Loki couldn't help but smirk for a moment before going back to near-panic.

Nothing but a series of random beeps indicated that whatever translation device the Vadiri were using was being applied, and said series took less than ten seconds altogether to come to a halt, during which time Flint never took his eyes off Loredlen. Loki really hoped he'd remember his cook's advice about not advertising his position to the Vadiri, because from the looks of things... well, from the looks of thing he didn't.

Still gritting her teeth, Loredlen surveyed her ship's captives and clutched her weapon tighter.

"Do you pathetic, base creatures understand me now?" she asked.

The various gasps of surprise from the crew were answer enough, but Billy Bones stepped forward with his own pistol in hand to confirm.

"What do you want from us?" he asked her.

"Discard your weapons and we might let you live," she replied. "Fail, and I will kill one of you for every ten seconds my orders are not obeyed. Only when this is done will our purpose become clear."

That had sounded more impressive the first time she'd said it, in Loki's opinion. He saw Flint take a step forward to argue and almost without thinking leapt forward and clapped a hand over the man's mouth.

"That sounds like a good idea to me, Captain," he said, and looked pointedly towards the same bare-chested man who'd told him to suck his cock earlier in the evening.

As he'd hoped, the Vadir followed his gaze to the now-confused mortal and cocked her head while Flint struggled against his hold.

"So, you are the captain of this vessel?" she said with a grin, and raised her rifle. "Tserra the Ascender behold, that role now belongs to Captain Roidtho!"

With that, she blasted the creature, and he turned to ash without even realising what was happening.

 _And nothing of value was lost_ , thought Loki. Flint went still, and thank the gods none of the crew said anything, so he removed his hands and stepped back quickly lest Flint decide he was going to punch him or something. There were a few more horrified cries, and the other men shrunk back from Loredlen like a school of fish from a shark.

The bio-luminescence in Loredlen's tentacles lit up in a show of celebration and she spun around to address the crew.

"Now, drop you weapons!"

Loki plucked the pistol out of Flint's grasp while he was still distracted by the burnt smear that used to be his crewman—whether or not it was because he was angry at the loss of life or at the stain it had left on his deck, Loki was unsure—and threw it down the steps along with his own weapon before the brainless mortals could all turn their heads to Flint and give away Loki's ruse. Sure, Loredlen herself didn't seem to be a shining star of intelligence, but she was just the first of the Vadiri the crew would meet.

The name 'Roidtho' didn't mean anything to him, though it was possible her name was being translated using a different convention to what he was used to in these circumstances; whistling was hardly easy to render into the written language of the Aesir, after all, and there was more than one way to convert the words. Then again, there may have been another reason she didn't sound familiar, one Loki was fervently hoping was not the case.

Given the way this evening was turning out, it likely was.

Billy was the next to throw his sword to the ground, then Joshua, then George Mary. One by one the crew complied with the order, struck by terror as they were, and when Israel Hands finally let his knives hit the deck, Loredlen herded them all on to the upper level with Loki, Flint and Billy before sending for those still below decks and counting them off to make sure they were all there.

Randall came last, helped up by two of Joshua's people, and the man who'd knocked himself out trying to jump overboard was carried up after him. The thought crossed Loki's mind that whatever the outcome for him, this certainly must have been Randall's final adventure. Even disregarding all the other myriad reasons his time was up, one of the many things the Vadiri held in contempt other than non-Vadiri were cripples. Randall was going to have to do better than a mask of mental incompetence to get himself out of this one; better than his pathetic brain was capable of, probably.

That almost made Loki a little sad. He caught the gaze of the old mortal as he was brought up the steps. Even now, the mask only dropped for a split-second into a searching, expectant look. _Any bright ideas?_ , he seemed to be asking.

 _Not at the moment_ , Loki conveyed by looking away. A single flash of inspiration on his part had kept Flint alive for now, but that was it; and if the Vadiri decided to torture their captives, then 'saved' might not have been the right word, assuming the torture eventually lead to death. If they were rescued instead, torture may still have been preferable.

Ha ha. _Rescue._

Well, it was good he could still make himself laugh, at any rate.

"All clear, Lieutenant!" cried Loredlen.

Loki glanced back at the doorway. Just as several shadows dropped into view from beyond the scope of his vision, the Vadiri lieutenant called back in a pained voice—

"Acknowledged!"

"Crewman Loredlen!" a new voice called out. Loki wondered whether the translation unit made the voices sound female to Flint's people.

"Captain!" Loredlen saluted.

Coming around the doorway and onto the walkway was a Vadir with much longer tentacles on her head than Loredlen; they went down past her waist and if Loki wasn't mistaken about the glints of metal he saw among them then some of those tentacles had had spurs grafted on. The two closest to her temples raised themselves and pointed outwards when she appeared, like a wolf bearing its fangs.

She was flanked by three more Vadiri on either side, and according to her rank her armour was inlaid with gold, contrasting to the black Loki had seen on the others. She called out again once she'd stepped out onto the walkway.

"Has the reprobate that killed Commander Gorlain been identified?" she asked.

Loredlen bowed. "Yes, sir! That creature has already been disposed of, sir!"

"Good. And the captain?"

"Taken care of also."

"Excellent."

Momentarily, Loki was distracted by a snatch of conversation to his left, when Israel Hands leant over towards him and whispered.

"Oi, Silver—what the fuck is going on!?"

Loki flicked his hand at him forthwith to get him to shut up. He didn't know why Hands thought he'd know the answer, maybe because he was the one who'd misidentified that other idiot as their Captain, but honestly; how stupid could you be to risk drawing attention to yourself here and now?

Captain Roidtho—for this was who Loki was guessing was the one Loredlen was addressing as 'captain', unless there was more than one captain on board and given that Vadiri generally ascended to captaincy by killing the previous captain, often gaining captaincy over more than one ship through that method, that was unlikely—made her way to the tip of the platform and stopped.

"So these are humans," she announced dismissively. "Hirrelthep was right; they do look like Aesir."

"As sewers resemble rivers," muttered the Vadir to her right.

Roidtho snorted, or made the Vadiri equivalent of an amused snort at least.

"Not that we hold any great love for the arrogant, meddling Aesir, I hope?"

"Not a micron, sir," hissed the same Vadir.

There was something personal there, Loki inferred.

"Well," Roidtho continued, now addressing the crew of the Walrus. "Your weapons were so primitive that our scanners didn't even recognise them as weapons, so whatever hopes your tiny minds were holding out; forget them. In a few hours we'll be well on our way to the deserts of Ganlen, where you'll enjoy the rest of your lives labouring in oil mines as slaves."

Slaves? That wasn't very Vadiri, at least not...

At least not for the Vadiri of this time period.

It had been lingering as a possible explanation for a while now, but suddenly it seemed all but certain—the choice of target, the personalised force field, the keeping them alive; these weren't the Vadiri of this time period at all.

They were time travellers.

He squeezed his eyes shut in despair. This may have boded better for Flint's crew, but not for him.

"That is," Roidtho went on, "Unless I have to kill you all here and now because you won't tell me what I need to know."

Before Loki could bemoan what he was now pretty sure that was, Flint abruptly shoved his way past the men in front of him and stormed over to the side of the ship to snarl—

"And what the fuck makes you think we'll do anything for you," in an oddly slow way. After a pause, he added, "Whatever the Hell you are."

The two Vadiri closest to Roidtho trained their guns on Flint, as did Loredlen, while Loki closed his eyes and prepared to be bereft of the closest eighteenth-century Midgard had come to impressing him in the three years since he'd been exiled there. But Roidtho lit up all over her body and grinned.

"I am Captain Roidtho, of the _Laiosan Sun_ ; beholden to Admiral Nar of the _Heart of Supernova_ and the last fleet, daughter of Kalstho, who captained _Fortitude's Burning_ , _Volcano of Everlasting Light_ , and _Sarastian Nebula in Sorrow_ , vassal of the Ladies of the Howl, servant of the Engravings and the Readers, and man of Vadirith—the greatest world that this or any other galaxy will ever know. I am your captain, and your master, and that is all you need to know, under the eyes of Tserra the Ascender and Jagradath the Rock!"

"By the Ascender and the Rock!" chorused the other Vadiri, putting a merciful end to their Captain's introduction. Even Flint was looking sorry that he'd asked.

Roidtho laughed. "Of course, this is beyond any of your understandings. Suffice it to say things will go better for you if you tell me and tell me quickly; which one of you pathetic scum is Loki of Asgard?"

And there it was.

Loki forced a confused expression on his face and made a pointed shrug at Billy, but Billy had been close enough this entire time to realise that 'Silver' knew as much about what was going on to deem the knowledge 'exact', at least in comparison to his own. His expression was more of one suddenly realising something, and probably it was the identity of 'Loki'.

Hopefully the Vadiri wouldn't notice. For the moment they were stood back, appraising the reactions of the crew, which for the most were as confused as Loki was pretending to be. Flint, however, was just glaring with cold hatred at Roidtho, as if he hadn't heard what she'd asked him.

"You heard your master!" insisted the Vadir on Roidtho's left, who spoke not in a shout, but with a menacing quiet far more unhinged in tone than the one Flint was wont to use, or so it seemed to Loki. He tried not to admit hearing a similar voice spat from his own lips in the past. It was humiliating to remember. "Deliver Loki Odinson to us immediately or face the consequences."

"We know you're hiding here, son of Odin," Roidtho added. "You won't like what we have in store for you if you make us wait. I must say though, this wooden raft is something of a come-down for the Prince of the Nine Realms."

That was true, but death would have come even further down than the _Walrus_ , even if some days it felt far from it. But Loki absolutely refused to die in such dismal company, and so kept mimicking the movements and expressions of the rest of the crew to hide himself.

"Lie-Smith," Roidtho called out. "Schemer. Traitor. Deceiver. Certainly you're not up front with real warriors, no, you'd be hiding in the back like the coward you are. In truth, with your powers gone I doubt you made your true identity known to these mortals. Girl Lentelaire—the arm!"

In the midst of apprehension Loki noted the use of the term 'Girl', which in this context paradoxically meant 'boy', as it was a male Vadir who stepped forward from his position at the back of Roidtho's retinue. They certainly never would have seen a male Vadir at this point in time, and so if there was ever any doubt in Loki's mind that these were time travellers, it left him right then.

The male was smaller than the female; the height of a tall human, with smaller tentacles and a long spiked tail, though Loki saw at once the spike had been ripped off this one's tail. Had it been a human, the damage would have been equivalent to that of genital mutilation, but that was not an uncommon sight on male Vadiri.

Far less common even than that were the stumps of bone protruding from his back. Male Vadiri were also born with wings, but very few were allowed to keep them. Most had the limbs amputated by ritual as toddlers.

All that made the creature before him rather a sorry sight.

 _Like you are_ , his own mind taunted him.

Lentelaire was carrying a large metal case, which he placed before Roidtho as he dropped to his knees beside her. When he opened the case, small jets of steam escaped into the atmosphere of the ship, and Loki cringed to see him pull a glass box out of the case.

Inside the glass box was the severed arm of a Frost Giant, and beside Roidtho her more contemptuous aide was donning a pair of sophisticated gauntlets that Loki could sense the magic from. This Vadir was a mage; he felt foolish for not feeling her power before, and right now he knew exactly what she was about to do, because he'd have done the same in her position.

"What the fuck is that?" someone whispered.

Roidtho looked up immediately, and gestured to Loredlen to remove the offending speaker from the crowd. A swarthy fellow—probably of Spanish descent. This was about the time Loki should have put himself forward and admitted who he was, because there was no way they weren't going to find him and the longer he delayed the more harm would be caused to Flint's crew... yet it broke his heart to imagine surrendering himself so easily.

Loredlen grabbed a hold of the crewman despite his attempts to flee into the crowd, and Flint's men scurried out of her way when she approached. Flint, however, did not.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he asked her, without a trace of fear.

 _Idiot_ , thought Loki. _Idiot, idiot, idiot. You're going to die, Flint. You stupid mortal, you'll die and all your little dreams of pirate empire will be lost in the void of space._

And as he feared, Loredlen raised her gun to his head, but was stopped by her captain's laughter.

"That one will fetch a better price at auction than the others—mark my words," she declared. "We might even sell him as a fighter instead of simple labour. He's not Loki Silvertongue at any rate. Are you sure you picked the right one for captain, Loredlen?"

Flint stared hard at Roidtho.

"I'm ship's quartermaster," he told her. "It's my job to look after this crew."

 _Ah, not so idiotic_ , Loki thought, and was a little relieved not to be proved wrong about his original estimation of Flint's intelligence.

"You'll look after them a sight better if you hand over the Jotun, reprobate," Roidtho replied. "I'm sure you can at least guess who I mean. A liar. A thief. A backstabbing, scheming little _whore_. And if you don’t..."

Her tentacles swayed to the side as if to gesture towards the crewman Loredlen had picked out, and the Vadiri mage took the severed Jotun arm in hand and jumped down to join Loredlen on the deck of the Walrus.

Loki felt the spell she wove into the arm without hearing her words; it was a crude trick for an illusion of life, but she did it quickly, and the fingers began to spasm.

The crewman struggled against Loredlen's grip and cried out, but to no avail.

And no avail was what would happen even if Loki tried to intervene, but somehow he still felt like he should do something. Gods, he'd become far too attached to these petty beasts.

At any rate he dithered too long, the mage pressed the Jotun's hand against the man's arm and that was that. He screamed, of course. Back when Thor had taken Loki and his own gang of fools on his ill-fated venture into Jotunheim and Volstagg had been burned the same way the wound had not been so bad, but Volstagg was Aesir, and this man was just a man.

The touch froze his forearm right through in an instant, but the mage did not let it lie there. A whispered word had the huge hand close around the limb and crush it, crumbling the man's arm into frozen red powder as he screeched in agony.

The crew watched in horror. Flint looked to Loki furiously, and Loki sensed he was about to give him up, so thought fast.

"If we are to be sold as slaves," he called out, hesitating when the Vadiri trained their eyes on him in tandem, "surely it's not a good idea to cripple the merchandise? You could do that to everyone of us without finding the man you're looking for, when, by simple deductive logic—"

He had to stop there. While Roidtho had cocked on hip and looked to be considering his proposal, her mage had strode over and grabbed his arm, yanked the sleeve up as he yelped, and placed the Frost Giant's hand on his skin.

Part of him, the stupid, hopeful part of him—the Thor-like part of him that he'd stringently deny he had—hoped that his arm would freeze and break off like the other man's. Part of him deep inside the darkness that the void he'd fallen into left still hoped that somewhere a mistake had been made, and he was not what he knew he was.

But there was no pain, and his skin turned blue like the sky at dusk.

Roidtho laughed.

"Hello, Prince Loki," she greeted him.

For some reason, Loki looked to Flint for his reaction.

To the man's credit, he didn't look at all surprised.

 


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again; you asked for it, and I delivered!
> 
> ...
> 
> ... several months later. Thank you all for your kudos and comments. :) 
> 
> NOTE: This is the last of the chapters I have actually written, and was drafted up before I watched TWS and before GotG came out. I still have not watched GotG, and probably won't, as despite its warm reception it has only ever seemed vastly unappealing to me. But, I believe 'Thanos' is a character in that movie and from reading copious Loki fanfiction over the last few years I gathered that he had something to do with Loki's invasion of Earth in the Avengers as well. If this is a load of bollocks... well... then I guess it's a load of bollocks. Oops.
> 
> (Also this is obviously not canon with S2 of Black Sails. Probably. I haven't seen all the aired episodes, so it may still work...)
> 
> (Also, A03 apparently loves deleting one-word lines when I copypaste them into the text box. Not something you need to know to read the story, unless I missed adding one or two back in, but it is annoying.)

 

*~*~*

 

Now that the mage was right up close to him, Loki could see something that he hadn't noticed before. Like her captain, she too had spurs grafted on to some of her elbow-length tentacles; those nearest her temples. But hers were not made of metal, they were bone.

The bone from the spikes ripped off the tails of male Vadiri. Signs of conquest.

Rather obscene; even in the eyes of someone like Loki.

She grabbed him bodily and threw him onto the main deck where he rolled and ran smack into the rigging. Though he managed to respond with no more than a pained grunt he could almost _feel_ the bruises form and for the umpteenth time that evening cursed his lack of power. The pain was minimal when he compared it to that time he'd been bashed against the floor by the Hulk, but in this body it was harder to bear.

Roidtho laughed again—such a jolly captain she was turning out to be, no doubt this entire ordeal would be a barrel of laughs—and leapt down onto the deck to join the mage and Loredlen. Every one of her aides followed her down except the male who stayed kneeling on the platform.

Had one of those spikes on the mage's tentacles been his at one point? Could Loki turn him? It was at least something for him to keep in mind for later.

Or at least until after Roidtho was done pulling him up by his hair. He hastened to get to his feet before she ripped the curly black mess out, and further agony shot across his scalp.

"Ah-ah!" he cried.

"I suppose I should be honoured to meet his Royal Highness," she mused, and one of her tentacles curled around his neck so that the spurs dug in just hard enough to start to break the skin. The stinger on the end drew in close to his right eye, enough that he could actually see the transparent little thing as it hovered over his iris. "I've heard many things."

He couldn't help himself.

"Surely you don't believe any of them?" he asked.

"Do you think I'd be more inclined to believe if I heard the stories from the one called 'lie-smith'? I've half a mind to sew your lips shut for the duration of the voyage, after what I've heard about you."

With that she tossed him back down onto the deck, and at least three of her spurs made shallow cuts on his neck as he fell.

"Mage Chadlen, can you confirm he has been entirely stripped of his powers?" she asked.

The mage tossed the Frost Giant's arm back up onto the walkway and approached Loki as he tried to get back on his feet without showing the Vadiri just how weak he'd become. She grabbed him and dipped him like they were dancing a Tango, holding her barbed tentacles up to his eyes and peering deep within them. Loki tried to remain still.

After a few long moments, she shoved him away with contempt.

"The seidr within him has been completely cut off, Captain. I'd wager only the Allfather himself could set it right."

"I know a few others, if you needed my power for anything," Loki offered. "I'd be eternally grateful, of course—"

She cut him off with a slap to the face.

"A male should know his place!" she spat.

 _Short-sighted cunt_ , thought Loki. There was no end of favours he could perform for this crew if they returned his magic to him. Then and there he made up his mind that if he ever did convince the Vadiri to take him to Amora or Doom or anyone else who may have had a chance at breaking Odin's curse, this mage would be the first one getting a dagger in her back.

"Don't be too harsh, Chadlen," sighed Roidtho. "Among the Aesir it's the male who is superior to the female."

"I know how the Aesir treat their females," Chadlen scoffed. "But if they were truly superior, they would have them at their feet, not by their sides! They're only Sand of Jagradath, after all, what would you expect?"

Loki couldn't help but roll his eyes. There was nothing like living with the crew of the _Walrus_ to help you forget what the company of those who made near-constant references to religious texts did to your sanity, which he'd learned from a similarly 'interesting' group of humans who lived in the same building as he did when he'd first landed in eighteenth century New York.

"That one walked in with the rest," he pointed out, waving his hand at 'Lentelaire'. "Not very in keeping with the words of Rhydath..."

Chadlen fumed and grabbed him by the neck, but Roidtho stepped up and put a hand on her shoulder before she could do more than push him back two steps.

"Don't let him aggravate you, Commander, he's worth far more to us alive. As for your comment, Odinson—or do you prefer Laufeyson?"

Bristling, Loki forced a smile.

"Whichever you prefer," he replied.

"Lie-smith, then, since it's what you are more than the others. I'm sure you've guessed by now that like you we are not of this time, and you wouldn't believe the luck we had in learning of your predicament, nor in acquiring the technology to take advantage. It's true the way of Rhydath has faltered on our home planet, but this ship still follows that way, and had we the choice, we would not use a male so."

She leaned in closer, lighting up.

"The ransom we fetch for you will aide greatly in our mission to bring Rhydath's message back to the people of Vadirith."

"Well," said Loki, his hands raised in supplication, "while the Allfather will no doubt pay most handsomely for my return, I can think of better uses for me than as a simple bargaining chip. I have..."

He trailed off. He'd been about to start outlining a few simple schemes to raise the funds to finance Roidtho's crusade and how essential he'd be to them in that, but to a man the Vadiri were suddenly wearing devious grins, and Roidtho was openly chuckling at him. He was afraid to ask, and yet—

"Might I inquire as to what is amusing you so much, captain?"

Roidtho's closest tentacle ran over the top of his head, and he tried not to shudder.

"You seem to be mistaken, little Prince. We're not going to ransom you back to the Allfather."

 _Good_ , thought Loki. _Because I never want to see that lying sack of shit again._

"We're ransoming you to Lord Thanos."

 

*~*~*

 

Loki was pretty sure he heard Roidtho laughing as one of her people grabbed him and threw him onto the walkway next to Lentelaire, who knelt there still as a block of wood and didn't even look at him. He was pretty sure, but not certain—because it could have been any number of voices laughing at him from inside his own head; from anyone he'd known before he'd been stripped of his powers.

It could have been Thanos.

_Thanos._

Yes, _He_ could give the Vadiri what the Allfather could not, and frankly was more trustworthy than a man duty-bound to uphold the laws of the Nine Realms, wherein pirates like the Vadiri were considered as _hostis humani generis_ as much as they were on Midgard. Odin might have taken the opportunity to capture or destroy Roidtho's entire enterprise, while Thanos would have no qualms backing her mad plan.

He liked backing mad plans, in Loki's experience.

It was humiliating. His legs were trembling beneath him, so badly that he could not stand up, and outside his body he could hear Roidtho's crew make quips about how he'd been put in a male's 'proper place', and how they had no need to fear his silver tongue now. He heard her ask a question of Flint's crew as well, but he couldn't bring himself to pay enough attention to understand what that question was.

There was no way Thanos would allow him to talk his way out of the torments he'd have in store for him. Not a second time. That particular burnt bridge was floating over a bottomless whirlpool, where drowning souls wished for things as sweet as pain.

The fear that had literally paralysed him had no words to describe itself in a way that did it justice. It was simply all-encompassing, like the cold on Jotunheim that was meant to claim his life as an infant.

_You should have left me there, Allfather. You should have left me there so I would not be here._

"Get up."

Loki nearly jumped when a hand grabbed the back of his jacket and yanked him up onto his feet. He looked up quickly and found himself staring into Flint's ocean-blue gaze.

"Come on, move."

Billy was there too, pulling on his other arm, and someone jabbed a rifle into his back to hasten him along the walkway, which suddenly seemed to grow longer with every step he took.

"Should have left me behind, Captain," whispered Billy. "I don't think Mary—"

"Will you shut your mouth?" Flint hissed back, looking behind them quickly. "Don't call me 'Captain' unless you want to see me blasted into ashes. And if you still hold that ridiculous notion about Gates I'll grant that you may want just that, but for God's sake wait until we can find some way out of this."

Ridiculous? Loki could have laughed. Billy had been close to Gates, his predecessor, and Loki knew some part of him was suspicious as to how the old man had met his end; which was understandable, since Loki knew well that Flint had snapped Gates' neck for trying to undermine him, but that only made him more cautious not to undermine Flint—at least to his face.

Not that undermining Flint of all base mortals meant a damn now. In fact, convincing Flint to snap his neck quickly might have merited serious consideration.

"Shall I put them in the treasury, Captain?" asked one of the Vadiri.

Loki didn't hear Roidtho's response. He wasn't listening, because he didn't much care what kind of cell they were throwing him into. Flint and Billy were half propping him up between them, half steering him along until they pulled him through the doorway out into the rest of the ship— _Laiosan Sun_ , Roidtho had called her—whereupon they were promptly shoved to the right.

Fuck it. What the fuck was he going to do? His best bet was to keep trying to negotiate with Roidtho to take him to someone who could unbind his magic instead of to Him, but if she'd already made some kind of deal with him he was finished. There was no way Roidtho was stupid enough to go back on such a deal.

And even if she hadn't already made a deal like that, he could tell she didn't like him. How was he supposed to convince her he would a better ally than Thanos, particularly when that wasn't actually true? He'd be significantly less dangerous to her than Thanos, yes, but he got the feeling dangerous was what she was looking for, and to undertake the venture to kidnap him in the first place meant she was certainly unopposed to taking risks.

Being thrown into a small, bare room, about the size of Flint's quarters on the _Walrus_ , jarred him from his thoughts for a moment. The door that shut behind them melted into the wall so that it felt like they'd been sealed inside a pure white cube, the edges of which were barely visible.

Flint punching him in the face jarred him from his thoughts for a little more than a moment. When he grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him against the wall, those thoughts were pushed to the back of his head entirely. He blinked, and everything went back into focus again.

"What the ever loving fuck just happened, Silver?"

Well.

There was a question.

"What were those... _creatures,_ and where the fuck are we?"

Loki couldn't even bring himself to smirk. It was just too sad. But Flint had given him... had given him... all right, not much by Asgardian standards, but by Flint's own standards he'd given him a great deal, and that and the one enjoyable liaison they'd had made it feel like Loki owed him at least some kind of explanation now they appeared to have the time for it.

He took a deep breath.

"You heard what the Vadiri said, Captain." He was pretty sure there was no surveillance in the _Laiosan Sun_ 's 'treasury'. "You must have figured some of it out yourself. As for the rest, I have to admit that when I said... _anything_ to you, I might have been lying."

Flint smiled, but the smile deliberately didn't reach his eyes, and he grabbed harder at Loki's clothing.

"Like your name, for instance?" Billy asked. Loki had almost forgotten he was still in the room.

"That's one thing, yes."

"Your real name is... Loki, was it?"

"Prince Loki," Loki corrected.

That made Flint laugh angrily—a confusing combination, but one he pulled off brilliantly.

"Prince Loki," Billy repeated. A moment later his head was in his hands. "You have got to be fucking joking."

"I don't care," Flint thundered, startling both Loki and Billy, "If your name is Mary Mother of God, you will tell me right now what the fuck is going on, Silver, or so help me I will ruin that blue bitch's plans to ransom you, here and now."

His voice lowered to a growl by the time those last few words were spoken, but in this case Loki was pretty sure it was an empty threat all the same.

"Flint," he started. "It's been a bit of an abrupt awakening, but surely you at least realise that the world you know is not all there is? Think of your world rather as an undiscovered island, a place some intrepid explorers just opened up to a wider universe of worlds."

Billy frowned. "What.. the whole... world?"

"Is but one of many," Loki explained. "I come from a world called Asgard—our captors from a world called Vadirith; their culture is one in which the piracy you practice is lauded rather than condemned, but the rest of the universe is less appreciative of that way of life and have severely crippled their capabilities in a series of military actions. Roidtho, the captain of this vessel, seems to hope that ransoming me will raise enough funds to give her people a proverbial new wind in that respect."

He decided to leave out the parts about time travel for now, the concept was probably a difficult one for a human of the pre-industrial era.

"And it just was our bad luck to be carrying you when they decided to come?" Billy asked.

"Pretty much."

Flint rubbed his hand over the back of his head, finally letting him go—which was nice, as he'd been pressing against some of the bruises Chadlen had given him and that and the punch to the face had been pretty painful.

"You say you're not from our world, but from 'Asgard'?" he said. "What were you doing on our world then?"

And there was another question.

"Suffice it to say, I was banished."

"No, that does not suffice to say. What were you banished for?"

Loki snorted. "Trying to take what didn't belong to me."

That earned him a glare. "Don't try to make me think of you as one of us, Silver, not now. I imagine it wasn't a merchant's cargo you were trying to take."

"My father's throne," Loki admitted. "Well, that was it this time anyway. Before that I was locked in the palace dungeon for trying to take over your world—though you wouldn't have known about that, the venture was nipped in the bud, so to speak." And would take place almost three hundred years in the future. "And before that I was on the run for killing the king of the Frost Giants and trying to destroy their planet."

"Sounds like you," muttered Flint.

"Frost Giants?" Billy repeated. He was becoming good at repeating things Loki was trying to explain. Like a little parrot. "I thought that thing said you _were_ a Frost Giant?"

A beat of silence passed. Loki clenched his fists and Flint looked at him expectantly.

"I was born to Jotunheim, and their king, Laufey," he said slowly. "But Odin the Allfather adopted me in my infancy and raised me on Asgard."

"The king you killed?" Billy persisted. "You killed your own father?!"

"He tried to kill me first," Loki said with a shrug. "He was no father of mine. I have no father."

"Very fucking dramatic," Flint said, unimpressed. "Now how do we get out of here and back to our own world?"

A snide little giggle escaped Loki. He dropped his grin at Flint's ensuing glare.

"You're serious? It can't be done," he said bluntly. "Like I said before; we're fucked, and me far more so than you."

"Yes, my heart bleeds for you. Now, you'd better revise your previous statement, Silver, or so help me—"

Loki pushed Flint's hand away from where it was gravitating towards his lapels. "Flint, there is literally no way—"

Flint pushed him against the wall again, and grinned.

"Well now. Someone once told me there was _always_ a way."

 _Someone lied_ , Loki should have said, only that had been one of the few times he'd been telling the truth, such as he saw it. For some reason, that comforted him.

For some reason Flint, ignorant and lowly mortal such as he was, comforted him. It was strange; to be in such a hopeless situation; no powers, no resources, no one who'd even know what had happened to him and the worst of all possible outcomes all but assured by a fanatical lunatic who took the phrase 'living in the past' to the extreme, and yet at Flint's words feel the panic in his heart ease off a bit.

Because those words should not have had that effect. Not on someone who was being honest with themselves about their own situation—and was Loki lie-smith now sampling his own wares, so to speak?

Why was he suddenly reminded of a hundred pointless excursions Thor had dragged him along on, what felt like a thousand lifetimes ago? A hundred desperate situations and a thousand shouts of baseless confidence from that muscle-bound idiot? Flint and Thor were nothing alike in the heat of battle or in any other way, and yet Loki that was now and Loki that had been were nothing alike either as far as Loki was concerned, so maybe Flint pushed some of the same buttons on this version of himself as Thor used to on the other.

Maybe the whole situation had driven him temporarily insane. It wouldn't have been the first time.

That thought also made him grin

"Oh, you," he said fondly.

 

*~*~*

 

_Meanwhile..._

 

"And so I said to him," Tony said, and paused to swallow the udon he'd crammed into his mouth, "But you _have_ heard of me! And I mean really, that is what matters, isn't it?"

Bruce leant down and rested his forehead in his palm.

"No you didn't," he said. "That was Jack Sparrow, in _Pirates of the Caribbean_."

"It was an homage!" argued Tony.

"It's something you just made up to convince those two you're funnier than you actually are."

Thor was clearly confused, but Steve was smiling genially nonetheless, and in Bruce's opinion it was a good look on him; one not seen as often as he would have liked.

"This is a movie, we're talking about?" Steve asked.

Tony frowned. "Just over... ten years old, I think? It was based on one of the rides at Disney, because I think they suddenly realised it was the only ride they had that wasn't connected to one of their franchises."

"I don't know about that," said Bruce.

"Anyway, it's a great movie. The sequels... meh, hit and miss."

" _Pirates of the Caribbean_ ," Steve repeated. "Is it appropriate for my 'delicate sensibilities'?"

 _Delicate sensibilities_? Christ, what stupid thing had Tony said now?

"You're still going on about that? I just thought _Game of Thrones_ might be a little too much for you, maybe we'll start off with _Lord of the Rings_ and see where we go from there..."

" _Pirates_ should be fine," Bruce cut in. "We could put it on right now if—"

Abruptly, Thor stood up and threw his bowl of ramen to the ground in a gesture Bruce had the feeling was meant entirely for dramatic purposes. He and the others cringed at the sound of breaking porcelain, while Thor stared up at the ceiling.

"... Or we could watch something with Ninjas..." Tony quipped, staring wide-eyed at the troubled look on Thor's face.

"Thor?" Steve asked.

The demi-god held his hand up. "Something is wrong, my friends," he announced.

A beat of silence later and a huge crash of thunder resounded outside. Thor's head didn't move, but the other three looked out the window at once where the sky was briefly illuminated by a strange flash that to Bruce seemed too yellow to be lightning.

He felt a stirring at the back of his mind and took a deep breath. _Not now_ , he thought. _It could be nothing. It could be nothing._

The light outside went almost purple. It was definitely not nothing.

"The roof!" cried Thor.

Mjolnir flew from the corner of the room to Thor's hand almost faster than Bruce could track it with his eyes, and then before Tony could protest, Thor whirled it around and flung it and himself at the window, smashing it to pieces and flying up and out of sight.

Tony was not happy.

"For fuck's sake!" he snapped. "JARVIS, what the hell is going on?"

" _I believe we have a visitor from Asgard, sir_ ," the A.I. responded. " _A bridge is being formed on the roof._ "

"Is it Loki?" Steve asked immediately.

"I cannot tell at this moment, Mr. Rogers, but might I suggest that either way it would probably be a good idea to join Mr. Odinson above?"

Activating his suit with the button on his watch, Tony grumbled and stalked towards the roof.

"Might as well make use of my new custom-built door!" he yelled, just as the headpiece began to cover up his mouth. He went through the hole in the window and took to the air right afterwards as Steve picked up his shield.

"Elevator?" he asked Bruce.

Bruce sighed. "Elevator," he agreed.

"You're not going to sit this one out?" Steve wondered hesitantly.

The last Hulk incident had been... not fun. But for now this was just a stranger on the roof, and Bruce had a vested interest in keeping the roof of the building he was living in free from super-powered aliens. They tended to cause a draft, and no one liked living in a house where building work was being done.

"Not yet," he said, smiling.

When they reached the roof Thor and Tony were already there, and a wide circle was smoking in the middle of the concrete. Bruce could just about see a figure kneeling within before the smoke cleared, revealing the figure to be a man in rather flashy-looking Renaissance-esque clothing about the same age as Thor looked, with blond hair and a little Robin Hood moustache.

"Well," he said to Steve. "At least it's not Loki."

The man stood up and Thor approached him with confidence.

"Fandral!" he exclaimed, embracing the man. The embrace was returned, but the other man looked very troubled all the same.

"My Prince, I bring grave news," he said, even in the midst of the embrace. Bruce felt his heart begin to quicken, and willed himself to calm down. He and Steve both began walking towards the two while Tony hovered a little to the side.

Thor blanched. "My father?"

"The King is well." 'Fandral' put his hands on Thor's shoulders. "The issue, once again, is Loki."

Well.

Bruce stood corrected.

 

*~*~*

 


End file.
